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Life is like photography; we develop from the negatives…
perhaps we can not see the big picture due to over exposure from a certain experience or obstacle.
When we share the photos of our inner thoughts with the world, are they negatives or full color potentials and possibilities?
Developing a photograph begins in a dark room. A negative is taken and a process transforms the image into a colorful and recognizable photo. So, is life, in that a process must take a timely course in order to develop a positive situation. Take school or college for example; the many hours of study, enduring the class lectures and hurdling the tests lead to a rewarding finish.
Love, the process that goes from seeing each other for the first time, the first words between two souls and the days that bring them closer and closer. The first kiss, first date and the days turned into years that essentially developed into a lasting relationship. (perhaps even wedding photos)
I was preparing for this years summer vacation and came across two rolls of film that we had taken on our vacation two years ago. We never had them developed. But, the memories are alive and well. I can close my eyes and recall that vacation when we went to Padre Island and played in the surf, fed the hermit crab that had made a home under the picnic table we sat at during the day. The doves that had made a nest in a palm tree nearby and the sea gull that had flown by several times and relieved himself in flight as a bombardier would release its bombs. I still have the sand dollars we had found that summer as memorabilia.
I remember summer vacations as a child. We went to my Aunt and Uncles who owned a resort on the coast. I had my first job washing dishes in their diner making a wop ping .75 cents an hour in the early 70’s. I bought my first camera (a Polaroid) and took a lot of pictures that I still have. When I see the snap shot that takes a millisecond image, I recall a full event in a mental video that unfolds the days of that time.
Life is like an album of memories. A photograph simply reminds us of a time in our life. A picture paints a thousand words … to say the least, if memories are attached.
There is a café in town (now, allow me to remind you that our town has about 400 citizens and at least that many dogs and cats) the photos on the wall at this café are of the olden days. When the town was thriving from timber and steam boats that use to frequent the river but no longer do due to the damns and regulations that have been developed since it is ecologically unsound. The people in the pictures are no longer alive. The general store is now a cabinet shop and the mill no longer exists. Snap shots of what once was becomes memorabilia of a time long ago.
When I was driving to town this morning I saw the sun rise. I can’t recall every sunrise I have ever seen but the one this morning reminds me of so many I have been fortunate enough to have embraced. When I lived in California, (being from Texas) I was amazed every day at the beauty of the distant mountains. I would make a comment about how beautiful the mountains are and the people I worked with (who grew up there) simply would reply… “There just mountains.” They had grown up seeing them every day so to them it was no big deal, but for me they were majestic. The same is with the story of the man with the bag (a bag of happiness) you don’t really appreciate what you have till it is gone.
I don’t dig up pictures of those mountains but when I see a sun rise like the one that adorned the sky this morning, I recall the sun coming over the mountains when I lived in Arvin, California. It reminds me of the song… ‘Till I gain control again’
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(one of my all time favorite songs)
“Till I gain control again”
Just like the sun over the mountain top you know I’ll always come again
You know I love to spend my morning time like sunlight dancing on your skin…..
link to a youtube version of this song with mountain pictures (beautiful)
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In the story of ‘Balls of clay’ ‘ we are inspired to take the time to open others up and find a gem in them. Each of us are an album of memories. Each of us have stories to tell that no one else has. We are all as unique as a photograph waiting to tell a story of a time long ago. Life is an album of memories.
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“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving” Albert Einstein.
~today is a day for making memories~ picture it!!!
(~_~)
When the nun Chiyono studied Zen under Bukko of Engaku she was unable to attain the fruits of meditation for a long time.
At last one moonlit night she was carrying water in an old pail bound with bamboo. The bamboo broke and the bottom fell out of the pail, and at that moment Chiyono was set free!
In commemoration, she wrote a poem:
In this way and that I tried to save the old pail
Since the bamboo strip was weakening and about to break
Until at last the bottom fell out.
No more water in the pail!
No more moon in the water!
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When Eshun, the Zen nun, was past sixty and about to leave this world, she asked some monks to pile up wood in the yard.
Seating herself firmly in the center of the funeral pyre, she had it set fire around the edges.
“O nun!” shouted one monk, “is it hot in there?”
“Such a matter would concern only a stupid person like yourself,” answered Eshun. The flames arose, and she passed away.
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Gisho was ordained as a nun when she was ten years old. She received training just as the little boys did. When she reached the age of sixteen she traveled from one Zen master to another, studying with them all.
She remained three years with Unzan, six years with Gukei, but was unable to obtained a clear vision. At last she went to the master Inzan.
Inzan showed her no distinction at all on account of her sex. He scolded her like a thunderstorm. He cuffed her to awaken her inner nature.
Gisho remained with Inzan thirteen years, and then she found that which she was seeking!
In her honor, Inzan wrote a poem:
This nun studied thirteen years under my guidance.
In the evening she considered the deepest koans,
In the morning she was wrapped in other koans.
The Chinese nun Tetsuma surpassed all before her,
And since Mujaku none has been so genuine as this Gisho!
Yet there are many more gates for her to pass through.
She should receive still more blows from my iron fist.
After Gisho was enlightened she went to the province of Banshu, started her own Zen temple, and taught two hundred other nuns until she passed away one year in the month of August.
http://spiritualinquiry.com/zen-stories/
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have a zen-sational day
(~_~)
“There was an eagle flying through the sky. When an arrow pierced its side and it fell to the earth. As it lay there, it looked at the arrow and realized that the feathers on the arrow was made from its own feathers.”
“Often times we give our enemies the tools they need to defeat us. However a wise warrior forces its enemy to fight on its own terms, place and time.”
“No arrow flies straight,” it will need to be arched or risen for distance, and even the wind may play with its journey. The bow may cause the arrow to twist a bit but it does not matter if the hunter knows how to use this and make the arrow hit its mark. So the path may not be straight “but the main thing is that it finds its own path… crooked arrows!”
these excerpts from the movie … “Crooked Arrows.”
Let’s face it, you can never go wrong with a “Bad News Bears” movie. You can replace the bears part with anything you want — ducks, birds, geese, whatever — as long as the basic storyline is the same — a bunch of misfits learn from a reluctant coach on their way to becoming a great (or at least, decent) team. Throw in a troubled, wayward kid in there, the token Tomboy girl, and you’ve got yourself a feel-good sports movie that caters to the family crowd. Now you can do what the “Bad News Bears” did and get them almost there, or you can go full-tilt for feel good status and have them actually win the Big Game. Either/or.
That’s basically “Crooked Arrows”, which has “Superman Returns’” Brandon Routh playing a Native American far removed from his Native American-ness, who has to coach the tribe’s lacrosse team to the championship and prove his worth. He is, of course, a selfish jerk — in the beginning, but eventually learns and becomes a better man. Or some such.
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When Eagle reached near 40, it’s beak,talon and feathers becomes weak. For new life, eagle makes one hard decision. Eagle flies on top of a mountain and sits on nest. Then Eagle strikes its beak against a rock and pull it out. After that it waits for new beak to grow. Then it starts plucking out it’s talons. New talons grow back. Then it plucks its old and thick feathers.
Now the painful process completed and it has to wait for 5 month to recover. After that it can make its fly to sky and can enjoy new birth. Now it can live 30 years more.
Some change needs to survive in difficulty. In miserable condition, we have to change life style. That process may be very painful. Sometimes we have to throw our old habits, memories and our daily routines. We can’t go ahead with all our past burdens. Then we have to free our burdens and sorrows
Read more:
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The road may not be straight but you’ll reach the end of your journey just the same, if you become a crooked arrow.
(~_~)
Fran the Frog was the best chef in the whole swamp, and all the toads and frogs of the region enjoyed coming to her very select restaurant. Her ‘Flies in spicy bug sauce’ and her ‘Caramelised dragon flies wings with honey of bee’ were the kind of delicacies that every self-respecting frog should try; and that made Fran feel truly proud.
One day, Toby came to her restaurant, ready for a nosh. Toby was a great big toad, and certainly wasn’t the brightest. When Fran’s fine creations were brought before him he complained, saying that that wasn’t food, and that what he really wanted was a botfly burger. Fran came out of the kitchen to see what the problem was, and Toby told her that these dishes weren’t good enough for – and certainly wouldn’t fill – a Smooth Newt. This made Fran so offended, and furious, that she went to the kitchen, came back with a frying pan, and whacked Toby squarely on the forehead.
A slight scuffle ensued.
Even though Fran realised she should have controlled her temper, and she kept asking Toby to forgive her, the toad was so angry that he said he could only forgive her if she handed him the frying pan so he could hit her back.
Everyone tried to calm Toby down, knowing full well that, given his strength, he could easily crack little Fran’s head open with that frying pan.
Toby would not accept an apology, and Fran felt awful for having bashed him, so she tried everything. She gave him a special cream for bruises, she poured him an exquisite puddlewater liqueur. Even better than that, she cooked him a… beautiful botfly burger!
But Toby the Toad still insisted he would not be satisfied until he got to return the blow he had received. It had reached the stage where he was almost getting out of control.
Then a very old toad entered the restaurant, shuffling along with the help of two crutches.
– Wait Toby, – said the old toad -you can give her a whack after I’ve broken your leg. Remember that you are the reason why I have to walk with these crutches.
Toby didn’t know what to say.
He recognised the old toad. It was Reddit, his old teacher. When Toby was small, Reddit had saved him from a bunch of young hooligans. In the process, Reddit had lost a leg. Toby remembered that it had all happened because he had been highly disobedient, but he had never given a thought to Reddit until now…
Toby now realised he was being very unfair to Fran. Everyone, including himself, made mistakes sometimes. And if we are to return blow for blow, wound for wound, all we are doing is prolonging the damage. So, even though his head still hurt and he thought Fran had made quite a remarkable mistake with that frying pan, seeing her feeling so sorry, and doing everything she could to put things right, Toby decided to forgive her.
Apology accepted, they spent the rest of the evening laughing at what had happened, and enjoying wonderful botfly burgers. And everyone heartily agreed that that was a rather better idea than getting into problems with pans.
story source: a frog and a frying pan
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If every one lived by the rule an eye for an eye, the whole world would be blind.
when your cup over flows with cuteness… smile!
(~_~)
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A Thousand Words
Last night, the wife, my little 9 year old daughter and I watched the movie, “A Thousand Words.” I was taken by the movie’s ‘zen’ appeal and of course ‘Eddie Murphy’s’ comic charm. Even my lil girl laughed and loved the movie that was charming and filled with a wonderful message of, “the power of words.”
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After stretching the truth on a deal with a spiritual guru, literary agent Jack McCall finds a Bodhi tree on his property. Its appearance holds a valuable lesson on the consequences of every word we speak.
Eddie Murphy is Jack McCall, a fast-talking literary agent, who can close any deal, any time, any way. He has set his sights on New Age guru Dr. Sinja (Cliff Curtis) for his own selfish purposes.
But Dr. Sinja is on to him, and Jack’s life comes unglued after a magical Bodhi tree mysteriously appears in his backyard. With every word Jack speaks, a leaf falls from the tree and he realizes that when the last leaf falls, both he and the tree are toast. Words have never failed Jack McCall, but now he’s got to stop talking … or he’s a goner.
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Words are a powerful tool, but not just the words but the passion and emotions that we use with them matter as much as what we say. As in the story with Buddha and the lake, where a married couple scream at each other because their hearts have become distant, even though they stand next to each other. When their love was new and fresh, their hearts were so close that they did not need words, the heart knew what the other was feeling.
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I see this movie in so many others, you can’t take a hammer and pound zen into them. No matter how many stories, parables or quotes you throw at them, they just don’t get it. Like watching a dog chase it’s own tail, never going anywhere spiritually in life, just existing. In this movie, Eddie Murphy has to go through a harsh trial to understand, passion, a better way of living and of course the power of words. Needless to say, I recommend to all, watch this movie.
words are tied to emotions like a tree’s root reaching into the earth.
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choose your words wisely
(~_~)
A Native American and his friend were in downtown New York City, walking near Times Square in Manhattan. It was during the noon lunch hour and the streets were filled with people. Cars were honking their horns, taxicabs were squealing around corners, sirens were blaring, and the sounds of the city were almost deafening.
Suddenly, the Native American said, “I hear a cricket.”
His friend said, “What? You must be crazy. You couldn’t possibly hear a cricket in all of this noise!”
“No, I’m sure of it,” the Native American said, “I heard a cricket.”
“That’s crazy,” said the friend.
The Native American listened carefully for a moment, and then walked across the street to a big cement planter where some shrubs were growing. He looked into the bushes, beneath the branches, and sure enough, he located a small cricket. His friend was utterly amazed.
“That’s incredible,” said his friend “You must have superhuman ears!”
“No,” said the Native American. “My ears are no different from yours. It all depends on what you’re listening for.”
“But that can’t be!” said the friend. “I could never hear a cricket in this noise.”
“Yes, it is, it depends on what is really important to you. Here, let me show you.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a few coins, and discreetly dropped them on the sidewalk. And then, with the noise of the crowded street still blaring in their ears, they noticed every head within twenty feet turn and look to see if the money that tinkled on the pavement was theirs.
“See what I mean?” asked the Native American. “It all depends on what’s important to you.”
this story found here…
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It’s a cold day in December in New York City. A little boy about ten years old was standing before a shoe store on Broadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold. A lady approached the boy and said, “My little fellow, why are you looking so earnestly in that window?” “I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,” was the boy’s reply.
The lady took him by the hand and went into the store, and asked the clerk to get a half dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her. She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with a towel. By this time, the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy’s feet, she then purchased a pair of shoes for him, and tying up the remaining pairs of socks, gave them to him. She patted him on the head, and said, “No doubt, my little fellow, you feel more comfortable now?”
As she turned to go, the astonished lad caught her by the hand and looking into her face with tears in his eyes, he answered the question with these words: “Are you God’s wife?”
–Author Unknown
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have an incredible day
(~_~)
Handsome is as handsome does
Every morning, before leaving his home, the great philosopher Socrates used to stand in front of a mirror and gaze attentively at his reflection for several minutes.
One day, a disciple came upon him doing this, and was unable to suppress a smile at the sight of his master examining himself so closely. Socrates turned to him and said, “You are smiling, no doubt, at the sight of this ugly old fellow staring at himself in the mirror, are you not? I do this everyday.”
Shamed, the disciple bowed his head, but before he could beg pardon, Socrates continued: “On seeing myself in the mirror everyday, I become aware of my own ugliness. This strengthens my resolve to live in a way that the virtue of my work may outshine the unattractiveness of my countenance.”
The disciple exclaimed, “Master, do you mean to say that those who are good looking should not look in a mirror at all?”
“Nothing of the sort” said Socrates. “They should also keep looking in the mirror to remind themselves to think, speak and behave in a way that is as beautiful and striking as they are. May not their actions cast a shadow over their pleasing appearance.”
In this way Socrates left behind a profound lesson for all of us: Handsome is as handsome does.
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After his service in the war, Socrates devoted himself to his favorite pastime: the pursuit of truth.
His reputation as a philosopher, literally meaning ‘a lover of wisdom’, soon spread all over Athens and beyond. When told that the Oracle of Delphi had revealed to one of his friends that Socrates was the wisest man in Athens, he responded not by boasting or celebrating, but by trying to prove the Oracle wrong.
So Socrates decided he would try and find out if anyone knew what was truly worthwhile in life, because anyone who knew that would surely be wiser than him. He set about questioning everyone he could find, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer. Instead they all pretended to know something they clearly did not.
Finally he realized the Oracle might be right after all. He was the wisest man in Athens because he alone was prepared to admit his own ignorance rather than pretend to know something he did not.
Know thy self… Socrates
(~_~)
The Emperor asked Master Gudo,
“What happens to a man of enlightenment after death?”
“How should I know?” replied Gudo.
“Because you are a master,” answered the Emperor.
“Yes sir,” said Gudo, “but not a dead one.”
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The master walked with his disciples. He taught using questions full of content, riddles that kept within a whole wisdom of life. And he always surprised his disciples with his wise teachings.
On certain occasion, while dusking, he asked his disciples if they knew how to tell when the night ended and the day started.
The first of them said: “When you see an animal at the distance and you can distinguish if it is a cow or a horse.”
“No,” said the master.
“When you see a tree at the distance and you can distinguish if it is a pine or an eucalyptus.”
“Not either,” said the master.
“OK,” said the disciples, “tell us, when is it?”
“When you look at a man in the face and recognize in him your brother; when you look at the face of a woman and recognize in her your sister. If you’re not able to do this, then, be whatever hour it be, still it’s night for you.”
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The master Bankei’s talks were attended not only by Zen students but by persons of all ranks and sects. He never quoted sutras nor indulged in scholastic dissertations. Instead, his words were spoken directly from his heart to the hearts of his listeners.
His large audiences angered a priest of the Nichiren sect because the adherents had left to hear about Zen. The self-centered Nichiren priest came to the temple, determined to debate with Bankei.
“Hey, Zen teacher!” he called out. “Wait a minute. Whoever respects you will obey what you say, but a man like myself does not respect you. Can you make me obey you?”
“Come up beside me and I will show you,” said Bankei.
Proudly the priest pushed his way through the crowd to the teacher.
Bankei smiled. “Come over to my left side.”
The priest obeyed.
“No,” said Bankei, “we may talk better if you are on the right side. Step over here.”
The priest proudly stepped over to the right
“You see,” observed Bankei, “you are obeying me and I think you are a very gentle person. Now sit down and listen.”
“If nothing exists,” inquired Dokuon, “where did this anger come from?”
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
may your bowl be filled with zen this day
(~_~)
There were two fireflies buzzing around the woods one night. One claimed it was enlightenend because of its ability to shine in the darkness. The other was a clown/comedian, always laughing and playing, saying, “My butts on fire,” or “Lightening struck my back side.”
The two fireflies happened upon a cabin in the woods and lighted upon the front porch where an old man sat watching the clouds embrace the moon. The zen master watched as the two fireflies danced around, “Ah, two fireflies, nearly the same,” the master said. ” Except one is brighter than the other.” (But which?)
by Art~
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Out in the state of California there is a great valley known as the Yosemite Valley, and here once lived a tribe of Indians who tried to explain how the wonderful streams and trees and rocks came to be.
The story of one of the highest peaks, El Capitan, is very interesting. One day some Indian boys went fishing in a beautiful lake in the Yosemite, and after they had grown tired they lay down in the sun upon a rock beside the lake. They soon fell fast asleep. How long they slept they did not know, but when they awoke they found that during their sleep the rock on which they lay had been stood on end, so that they were now nearly a mile high in the air and had no means of getting down. They were in a bad plight.
But the animals in the valley which were friendly to mountaineers saw their misfortune and held a conference as to how to help the boys get down. They decided that the only thing to do was to try to climb up the face of the cliff. But the rock, was too steep, and so they tried to jump up. First the raccoon tried it, then the bear, then the squirrel, then the fox, and finally the mountain-goat. It was all to no avail, however, and they gave up in discouragement, and were about to leave the boys to perish, when the inch-worm came along and offered her services. The animals laughed her to scorn. What could she do, with her snail-pace, when they all, who were so fleet of foot, had to give it up!
But she would not be laughed out of her purpose, and she began to climb up the cliff. Slowly, inch by inch, she crawled up, so slowly that it seemed as if she would take a thousand years to get there. But as she passed crag after crag the animals below ceased making fun of her and began to shout encouragement. At last she reached the top. And then the Great Spirit turned her into a huge butterfly so strong that she flew down, with the boys on her back, to safety.
There is a verse in the Old Testament which says that the race is not always to the swift, which means that it is not always the strongest who win. It is the one who keeps at it. Many a bright boy fails in school because the lessons come so easily he does not work. Many a dull boy wins because he sticks to it and plods away.
If you are tempted to trust too much to your brightness, remember the animals who made fun of the inch-worm. If you are dull, remember the inch-worm, take courage, and plod away. You will get there sometime.
Howard J. Chidley’s short story: Inch-Worm And The Mountain
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live life inch by inch and moment by moment
(~_~)
In our busy, hustle and bustled busy lives we tend to forget to stop and smell the roses. To stop for a moment and live in the NOW! “To live in a painting,” is what I call the moment where I remember to look up and see the clouds in all their glory for this day. To look around and absorb my surroundings and where I stand in the ‘living picture’ of life. When I catch myself walking fast paced towards a place and I stop and slow my steps to live in every foot step and be in the now, not the …’what I am racing to.’
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A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that 1,100 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.
Three minutes went by, and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace, and stopped for a few seconds, and then hurried up to meet his schedule.
A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping, and continued to walk.
A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.
The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried, but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally, the mother pushed hard, and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.
In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money, but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.
No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the most talented musicians in the world. He had just played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, on a violin worth $3.5 million dollars.
Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.
This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste, and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?
One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?
(this story found here…)
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An anthropologist proposed a game to the kids in an African tribe.
He put a basket full of fruit near a tree and told the kids that who ever got there first won the sweet fruits.
When he told them to run they all took each others hands and ran together, then sat together enjoying their treats.
When he asked them why they had run like that as one could have had all the fruits for himself they said: ”UBUNTU, how can one of us be happy if all the other ones are sad?”‘UBUNTU’ in the Xhosa culture means: “I am because we are”
The message is straight.. “Have Heart, Will care”
The message is straight.. “Have Heart, Will care”
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pay exteraordinary attention to everything and everything will become extraordinary
(~_~)
zendictive 